Two Sides of the Same Coin
by Xangotron
Summary: What if... CHARNAME was the one taken to Spellhold instead? What if Khalid and Dynaheir had lived, and their partners had fallen instead? Lastly, what if nearly the whole plot, half the characters, and most of the subquests in BG2: EE were turned on their head? A *very* different retelling of the Bhaalspawn Saga, from Imoen's perspective, with quite the motley supporting cast.
1. Awakening

_This has been burning a hole in my brain for a few days now – when you're up at 3 am, nursing, your brain goes to weird places. Two Sides of the Same Coin is a kind of "what if?" experiment wherein I take several of the major plot lines, and… well, I do the exact opposite. Hopefully that doesn't give too much away!_

_Anyhow, who knows how this will turn out. It's a thought experiment, after all, but hopefully you get some enjoyment out of it! Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated._

* * *

"_Hey. Imoen. Ims, wake up. We've got to get out of here…"_

A familiar voice brought the formerly-pink haired girl back to the edges of consciousness. She was sprawled on the metal floor of an immaculately clean steel cage. The room was dim. Outside, peering in through the bars and fiddling with something, was Eli.

"Eli…?" She shifted her position to get a better look at him. The half-elf was gaunt and heavily bruised, his black hair hanging limply behind him in greasy, ratty braids. Eli grinned at her in response, then finished jimmying the lock. He broke it off and held it up for her to see.

"See, you taught me something after all," he said softly, pressing the lock into her hands through the bars. "Let's find everyone else and get the hell out of here."

Imoen's brain was sluggish; she was having trouble processing where she was, and what she was supposed to be doing. Eli must have noticed her confusion because he paused, opened her door, and then gently lifted the little mage out of her cell. "Come on, now," he said, supporting her as she gained her feet and patting her awkwardly. "It'll be okay. We'll get out of here…"

Finally, the little woman giggled. "You know… you kind of suck at giving encouragement," she said, her voice weak.

Elioth frowned at her, but it faded quickly into the ghost of a smile. "Yeah, I know. But you're up, aren't you? That's what matters now." He looked around them, then pointed to the back of the room, where there were more cages. "I don't know how long we have until that madman comes back, but I passed a few other cages to get to you. Let's go."

"Who?" She followed after him, her legs weak – when was the last time she'd really stood for an extended period of time? Or was it due to the adrenaline rushing through her veins? She gave herself a few seconds to give the limbs their bearings, then caught up. "Gods, what did he do to us?"

"…I don't know. On either count." He was peering around the cages like scout, looking every direction to see if they were being followed. If they hadn't just been tortured for an undetermined length of time, Imoen would've be proud of her studious companion. When they'd started, a year ago, he'd barely spent any time out of the Candlekeep library and had tripped over every rock between Candlekeep and the Friendly Arm Inn.

"But you're – the spells –"

"I've never seen anything like them before in my life. Nothing Gorion, Ulraunt, or Elminster ever cast was like that. Here, stop."

They'd come to the corner of the room. In the cage ahead of them, slumped over, was a figure who was mostly naked, bald, and covered in a variety of heavy bruises. He was very still, still enough for Eli to go down to his knees to get a closer look.

"Oh my Gods," Imoen said, after recognition had kicked in. "Is he dead?"

Eli held up a hand to silence her, but the pathetic creature on the floor managed to croak, "D-death would probably feel better than… than this." He opened his eyes into 2 dark slits and locked them with Eli's. The mage had reached in with his other hand to try and take his pulse, but withdrew upon hearing Khalid speak. "H-how did you two escape?"

"Oh my Gods," Imoen repeated, dropping to her own knees to come to their level. "Khalid! Oh, I'm so glad to see you. Where's Jaheira?"

"I don't know." The fighter sat up, wincing with pain as he did so - both Eli and Imoen cringed at the extent of what had been done to the other half-elf. Lightning scars in the shape of fractals traced their way up and down his body, and there were bruises and cuts nearly everywhere.

Imoen was struck by the cuts – the bright pink flesh, in the process of healing over, showed that they were arranged symmetrically, in ray-like patterns from a central line in each limb. Their tormentor was remarkably precise when he traced the patterns of his nerves and veins. The cuts were… pretty? She shuddered, putting the thought out of her mind.

" – if we can find her, then," Elioth was saying to Khalid. "There has to be a key somewhere that could get us out, unless you can somehow break these bars..."

"I- I'm not in much a state to really try b-bursting out of this cage right now," the Calishite admitted haltingly. "I can s-shout, though, if you're about and something happens."

Eli's face was contemplative. After a few moments, he licked his dry lips, then said, "All right. We'll be back for you as soon as we can."

"Wait. Before you g-go…" Even with the swelling and bruising of his face, it was obvious Khalid had something else on his mind. He gestured for the two to come nearer. Once they'd gotten as close as the bars would allow, he whispered to them hoarsely: "If s-something h-happens… if the man keep-keeping us here comes back, f-find Jaheira and g-get out. Leave me."

"Khalid, we can't – "

"You w-will." His eyes were fully open – he and Eli stared at one another unblinkingly. Slowly, the mage reached back in and offered him a pale hand, which Khalid accepted. He looked to Imoen next, who swallowed hard, but nodded her agreement.

"All right," she said softly. "We'll be as quick as we can, but please, please… take care of yourself."

The Calishite was resuming his slumped pose, though it was clear that he was very alert now by his open eyes and vague frown. "I'll try. B-be careful, you two."

* * *

They searched the other cages one by one. Most were empty, a few recently so by the marks on the bars and dried pools and smears of blood, still red in the dim light. The others were as immaculate as the one Imoen woke up in, and they'd just about given up hope in finding the rest of their teammates when they came an area curtained off from the rest. A foul odor wafted out from underneath, as well as a puce liquid – something, or possibly multiple somethings had died and were busily decomposing on the other side.

The mage, who was about to pull the curtain to the side, had blanched. Imoen suddenly remembered that Eli had never had a particularly strong stomach – he went queasy at the sight of the butchered animals Winthrop had served for dinner (and had been a staunch vegetarian ever since that initial discovery of where dinner came from), and had to step away from the aftermath of every battle, lest he lose his last meal.

"Let me," she said mercifully, gently pushing him to the side and away from whatever horror they were about to witness. "Might want to get your vomitskin ready."

"Thanks," he said gratefully, taking a few steps back. "I'm wishing our gracious host had let me keep it. I've got a feeling it'll come in handy."

"I'll do it on three, then – don't look until I say so, and then be ready to run and puke over in that corner." She pointed at the furthest corner from them. Despite her joking, though, Imoen felt a hole open up in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't much a fan of bodies herself, and if the stench itself was any indication, the bodies in question were by no means fresh.

"One. Two." She put her other hand to her nose, trying to breathe through her mouth. Elioth was quite green in the face and had backed up several steps. Imoen looked to him and he nodded weakly, then closed his eyes. "Three."

She pulled back the curtain to reveal two cages, side by side and nearly touching. Both were occupied, but one had a small river of gore dripping out from the bottom.

Eli frowned, trying to ascertain what was going on by sound alone. Imoen, from her closer vantage point and with her eyes open, could see the entire grisly scene. In the dripping cage, a network of rotting flesh had been draped over a pale scaffold of bones. Through the tears of the skin, she could make out the oddly familiar shapes of ribs, spine, skull, and pelvis, along with smaller, lesser bones she couldn't name. Whoever it was, they were a veritable giant – the man or woman took up a great deal of the space inside the cage.

In the second one, a crumpled and mostly naked figure lay still on the floor. She – this one was definitely female – was dark skinned and haired, and quite gaunt.

Imoen was holding her breath, she realized – again, she looked at the first cage, then second, then back to the first once more while her eyes processed what they were seeing and her memory caught up with her.

The flesh of the figure in the first cage was bald, and stained purple in one sagging area over the skull. The thief let out her breath, and took several steps away from the lurid scene, nearly crashing into several of the other cages in the process. The noise startled Eli, and even though he'd promised to keep his eyes closed, they flew open. "What is it?"

"Don't look," Imoen said. "Don't. Please don't look." She might have had a more solid constitution than Eli, but it was taking all of her will to hold back the nausea and calm herself down. She wanted to run, grab her friend and flee, even if it meant leaving Khalid to rot. As it was, the little thief lacked the strength to stop her companion from looking anyway.

"Is that –" Eli began, blue eyes widened. He had taken in the entire thing, and was the color of slightly sooty wax – grey and sickly.

"I think… I think so." She coughed.

"Oh." He nodded, turned, took a few lurching steps, and vomited bile onto the metal floors.

Imoen had to go back up there, had to know whether the other half of that pair was, indeed, Dynaheir and whether she was still alive. While the mage wiped his mouth and regained his composure, the thief held her breath and approached the second cage, where the dark figure lay. She could make out the bumps of her vertebrae and ribs along her naked back, see the sunken dimples of where her backbone met her pelvis, but it was hard to tell whether she was breathing.

"Dynaheir," she whispered. Nothing. "Dynaheir?"

"I think she's dead, too," ventured Eli weakly in the distance.

"I dunno…" There was no ichor, no runny putrefaction from her cage. If she was alive, she was barely clinging on; if not, she'd passed recently. It was against her better judgment and essentially contrary to everything she'd been taught about thievery to reach inside the cage, but what other choice did she have? Tentatively, she wedged her hand into a gap between the bars and felt for Dynaheir's wrist.

A dark hand clamped over her own, and sharp fingernails dug into the flesh of her palm – Imoen bit her lip, which kept her from crying out in pain and surprise. "Who are thee?" the wizardress hissed in a voice that was very different than the proud one Imoen remembered.

"Dyna–" the thief gritted her teeth through the pain, curling her fingers as well. "Dynaheir, it's me, Imoen—"

"Lies! Thou art dead. We are all dead here!"

The wizardress spoke in a guttural growl, which awkwardly highlighted the overformal way she'd always spoken in Chondathan. "Uhn," Imoen grunted. "Please, Dynaheir, look at me. See for yourself. Eli's here, too…"

"Elioth…"

The prone woman's hand relaxed somewhat over Imoen's, and the younger woman yanked her own injured hand back, cradling it against her chest. "Yes, Elioth. You remember him, don't you?" She shot a look back at the other wizard, who was sitting near a pool of vomit, steadfastly looking away. "Eli, say something."

"Um." She could hear him brace himself and stand, and his footsteps as he approached the scene, one hand shielding his eyes from the sight in Minsc's former cage. Awkwardly, he knelt before the dark-skinned woman, and put a hand on the edge of her platform. "Dynaheir, it's us, Elioth and Imoen. We've come for you."

Dynaheir moved enough to turn her head towards them. She'd always been masked, Imoen remembered, part of Hathran tradition – now, she could look upon the wizardress' high cheekbones and fine brow as she gazed up at them with the large hazel eyes she remembered. These days, though, they looked distinctly empty on the inside. "I was told that ye were all gone," she said quietly in her hoarse voice. "Everything else has been taken from me. What insanity does the mad elf try to peddle now?"

"Mad elf…?" Eli turned to Imoen, who shrugged – how would she know? He looked again to the Wychlaran. "Dynaheir, we need to get you out of here, but we need you to hold tight. We're going to look for the key –"

"We can't just leave her here," Imoen interjected. "Not with…" She jerked her thumb at Minsc's remains, and Eli paled once more.

"Well, we can't very well break the cage, can we?" he snapped back.

"'tis open."

"You picked my lock. Why not try the same with her? I get why you're so hesitant, but –"

"Yours was damaged by whatever that disturbance was that made our "host" leave so abruptly," the half-elf explained in a strained voice. "I guess *you* could try picking the lock…"

"If I couldn't pick my own, what makes you think –"

"I tell ye, 'tis open."

"What?" Eli and Imoen asked the question at the same time.

"The lock. 'tis open," Dynaheir explained quietly. "Whether ye truly are who you say or more tricks, the lock is open. Ye… he… knew I could not run, that my strength and spirit were dead, and so the lock… is open."

The Hathran was not in her right mind, a fact that was plain to see to both Imoen and Eli. She scooted over to the door, avoiding the puddle that had gathered under Minsc's cage, and with her non-injured hand, tested the door. As Dynaheir had said, it was open. She bit her lip, looked to the half-elven mage, and the two of them gathered the frail witch up and left the room as quickly as they could, each holding her half of her up and supporting/carrying her as far from the scene of carnage as possible.

* * *

They decided to leave Dynaheir with Khalid for the time being. Imoen wanted to take her with them, but Eli's logic prevailed - it would be easier to escape if they were all in one place, he'd said, especially given how battered the fighter was. Neither Imoen nor Eli had their spells, putting Eli especially at a disadvantage. Finally, though neither wanted to say it out loud (especially near her), Dynaheir was… well…

"I think she might be broken," Eli whispered, once they'd finally decided to address the Rashemi elephant in the room. "Look. Look at her eyes."

Dynaheir had finally regained her feet, but she wore the same wild look she had when they'd come across her. Her hazel eyes were glazed over. She also hadn't said another word, once they'd gotten her out of her cage.

Imoen bit her lip. Eli was right. "We can't leave her in here," she whispered back as they walked along. "After what was done to her… to us…"

"Ugh, I wasn't suggesting that… that's out of the question." The mage sighed, looking over at the once powerful invoker shuffling along a few paces behind them. "I don't know what we did in a past life, Ims, but this is not where I pictured we'd end up dying."

Imoen scoffed and batted at him. "Yeah? Well… I have no intention of laying down and giving up. Neither do you, elsewise you'd never have broken me out in the first place, silly, so let's keep walking."

Eli stared at her as they walked along, and the mage-thief offered him a lopsided grin. "How's that for encouragement?"

"Not much better than I can do, frankly, sorry." His expression was wry.

"Pah. Buzzkill."

Khalid hadn't gone back to sleep in their absence – he started when they came back, bearing the wizardress, but was obvious quite awake and alert. He agreed to keep watch over her until they returned with the key which, oddly, wasn't hard to find. The golem in the room that contained it didn't attack them on sight, and the locks were easy for Imoen to pick.

"You'd think he'd've put more effort into hiding it," she remarked during one of their ferries to the two other prisoners. "It's almost like he wanted us to…"

"Don't say that…" Eli replied. "For all we know, he did."

They'd also found old, but serviceable armor and some weapons too – real weapons, not flimsy ones that had been iron-poisoned – and most precious of all, three vials of cloudy blue liquid that Eli had identified as healing potions hidden behind a trapped painting. Once they'd looted, released the Calishite, then dressed in their spoils, Imoen pressed one into Khalid's hands.

The bald half-elf looked up at her, brow creased, and tried to give it back. "I c-can't accept this."

"Just a sip," she urged, insisting. "You're bruised all over. There's no way we can get out of here without you being whole."

Khalid looked over at Dynaheir, who was pressed up against the edge of his cage and staring off into space. "I'll b-be whole again once we find Jaheira." He didn't try to give the potion back, though, Imoen noted. Instead, he popped the vial's cork and tipped some of the liquid back into his mouth, and the bruising that had swelled up his face receded slightly. He handed it back to her. "That should b-be enough for now. What's the p-plan?"

"What IS the plan?" Eli asked, looking at Imoen. At her expression of confusion, he attempted to explain. "This place is full of locked doors and trapped all over. Since none of us have spells, and Khalid is pretty battered, it only makes sense..."

The red-haired thief was not used to being put in charge – she frowned at the burden everyone had just placed on her. "Like I have any idea how to get out of here," she muttered, shooting Eli a dirty look. *He'd* always taken charge when they were on the road last time, despite the odds and his bumbling. Why give it to her now? "I guess – um, if the democracy agrees with me, I guess we'll go through that door we found in the golem's room...?"

"G-golem?" Khalid looked alarmed. "No one m-mentioned a golem."

"He's, uh, docile," Eli explained. "Or apathetic. Something like that." Then mournfully, to Imoen, "Too bad the other exit's sealed shut."

Imoen nodded emphatically. "Seriously. In any case, I doubt we'll get out of here without spells, though, Eli... which means we should find a safe place to hide for a few hours."

The half-elf looked around, both at the cells around them and at what the party had become - 3 spell-less wizards, including one who was barely not-catatonic, and a fighter who looked ready to keel over. "Agreed. Whatever passes for safe, here, anyway" he responded by way of agreement.

They gathered their gear, Khalid picked up Dynaheir, and they made their way as a group to the Golem Room door.


	2. Illuminating

_Thanks, Coutelier, for the positive review! I don't feel like Imoen's given enough, in the storyline as is- after getting kidnapped TWICE, experimented upon, and general kicked around mentally and physically. Also, for once, I wanted to explore what would happen if the protagonist WASN'T all buff, sword-swinging, and totally amazeballs (don't get me wrong – I like strong PCs, too, but it seemed like a good time for a change)._

_Blue-Inked Frost – thank you for your kind words. Since each of them underwent their own special brand of torture, I tried to show a spectrum in their reactions to their imprisonment. I, too, adore Khalid and have a fondness for Dynaheir, and felt kind of cheated when they were taken away so unceremoniously, so I hope they live up to your expectations! They both have some fun stuff planned._

* * *

Something very obvious had triggered as soon as the door was opened - lightning arced across the room, the electric sizzle bouncing from wall to wall. Eli had very nearly walked into it, but Khalid - whose reflexes were faster - pulled him back into the Golem Room at the last second. The bolt singed a few hairs, but did no lasting damage to anything other than the wizard's pride.

"Gyah!" He patted himself down, putting out any potential fires and making sure all limbs were intact and accounted for. "What the hell was that?" Imoen couldn't help but to grin; some things never changed.

Another lightning bolt was thrown their way – this time, Eli scrambled to get out of its path, and Khalid shoved the door closed before it hit. The three cognizant party members panted from the adrenaline rush, but once the roar in her eardrums had faded, Imoen frowned. Where there was once silence, there was now chittering on the other side in addition to the crackle of the bolts.

"Trap?" Khalid ventured helpfully.

"No…" She approached the door, which was easy enough since no one else was in a hurry to put themselves in immediate danger. Pressing her ear up against it, she heard the same, odd sound – but now is was doubled. "There's something, or someTHINGS in there. Since there's nothing the way we came, we're going to have to kill them, I think."

"Hmmph," grunted Khalid. "W-well… this could get interesting."

The thief and fighter looked back at the two wizards – Eli was standing awkwardly near Dynaheir, and the Rashemi woman was dazedly looking around them. "Do you think," began Imoen, addressing the other wizard, "that you could stay by Dynaheir until this is over?"

"We're both pretty useless here, aren't we?" Eli nodded. "I can definitely do that. You'll know where to find us. Shout if you need help?"

"And you shout if someone comes looking for us," agreed the thief. "C'mon, Khalid. Let's get this done."

"You make it sound s-so… easy…" he put his hand on the door handle. "On three?"

Imoen shook her head, readying her dagger; Khalid followed lead and unsheathed a longsword. "Let's just go. Eli, might want to duck."

"On it!"

Khalid pulled the wooden door back open, and the pair rushed the room. He was the more seasoned fighter of the two – in fact, the Calishite was the one to notice the two lightning mephits first and he charged them, leaving Imoen behind to take stock of the remainder. Two cloaked figures clad in greys and black lay dead upon the floor, burnt. A pillar in the very center was dimming quickly. As she watched it faded out entirely, then quickly brightened to a brilliant white and sent out a pulse.

"Khalid!" she called. He turned, losing focus from the elementals for a split second as the bolt crashed into the west wall. In its wake, a flickering little creature squeaked, then beelined for the half-elf and the rest of its kin. She bounded over to help him, slashing her dagger at the newly spawned enemy when the room dimmed, blackened, and flashed again. The last addition to the memphit squad fell to the floor just as the new one took its place.

Wait! Imoen thought. There was a pattern to this!

_One, two…_

The thief woman held her breath and counted as Khalid took down the other three mephits. He paused, catching his breath, and turned towards Imoen. _Three, four, five_… then as if on cue the pillar in the center beat like a large electric heart, and a bright ball of lightning emanated out of it. It streaked towards the south wall, bounced, and in its place hovered yet another mephit. "Five seconds!" Imoen called amidst the chaos. Khalid sighed, then rushed this new one. "There's five seconds between bolts, Khalid so we have to hurry through if we want – aiee!"

The last pulse had sent a bolt straight for her. Imoen dropped to the floor, tumbled, and found herself face to face with a mephit of her own. It grinned and sent sparks her way – given their proximity they were unavoidable – she cringed, expecting the worst, but although the crackled of energy singed, they weren't deadly in and of themselves.

"Imoen!" Khalid shouted. "I f-found - th-there's a plug! It's on the south wall!"

"Then pull it!" she shouted, trying to grab a hold of the offending elemental to exact her revenge.

"Jus… Just p-pull it out of the wall?"

"YES!" It was both an answer and a triumphant cry – she'd caught the little bastard and was poking holes into it with her dagger. The center pillar was brightening again, readying itself for another blast when suddenly, the room went black. A loud squeak informed her that the mephit was dead; the room was hot and smelled of burnt hair and sweat.

"I think… I think that d-did it." Khalid laughed weakly. "Imoen? Y-you all right?

"Yeah." Imoen coughed, and stood up, trying to get her bearings – en route to the door, she tripped over one of the two dead bodies and stumbled the rest of the way to the door. Eli was wide-eyed on the other side, and the suddenness of going from brightness to dark and back again made both her and Khalid see spots of green. "There was some sort of… lightning switch… or something," she explained, before the more lucid of the two wizards started asking questions. "Whenever it fired off a bolt, it would summon a mephit."

The wizard made a face that clearly expressed just what he thought of all that. "That, uh, explains the piles of dead ones in there, then. Is it safe to go through this room?"

Imoen turned to Khalid, then looked back at the darkened pillar. "…yes?"

"Should b-be," the fighter answered for her. "It's been m-more than five seconds with no lightning or mephits yet, so… t-that's a good sign."

She gestured towards Khalid with a flourish. "There's your answer, Eli. We should go."

"Hm." Eli frowned in thought, and then pointed at the two OTHER bodies. "What about those two?"

"There when we started," said Imoen at the same time Khalid stumbled over, "K-killed by the room b-beforehand."

The lone thief let an audible breath out of her nostrils. "Let's get out of here… this place seriously gives me the creeps." Imoen, always more impatient than the elven contingent, started to move through the room, leaving the rest of her party behind. Khalid looked around, shrugged, and trailed; Eli lagged in the back to help Dynaheir along.

* * *

Their rest stop was cut short by voices nearby. They'd hunkered in an abandoned hallway, closed off at both sides – the respite allowed for everyone to catch their breath for a few minutes and to take stock of their situation. Dynaheir had closed her eyes almost immediately, and looked peaceful for the time being. Khalid was inspecting the party's weapons, sorting them into a neat pile by person and ability – he kept the sword and a mace they'd found, assigned a dagger to Imoen, a staff and sling to Eli, and had set aside another dagger for Dynaheir for when/if she came to. Finally, Eli was pacing next to Imoen, who was on watch.

"Stop," she said. It wasn't in an exasperated tone; instead, the formerly pink-haired girl sounded resigned. "The goal was to rest, Elioth. You're going to wear a hole in the floor."

"It'd get us out of here faster, wouldn't it?" The half-elf didn't stop, instead executing an about-face and going in the other direction. "I've been thinking."

"You don't ever **stop** thinking."

The mage grinned in a most roguish fashion at his childhood friend. "Guilty as charged. In all seriousness, though…" His face took on a much more serious expression. "We're three wizards who don't have a single spellbook between them, and four people with no food or water. One of us is just shy of unconscious."

Imoen glanced up at him, red brows creased. "Think I haven't thought of all that myself? Why not add that we have no idea where we are, and that there's some psycho possibly on the loose, coming after us?"

"It's not pretty. You have to admit that." Eli finally stopped a few paces shy of Imoen and looked down at her, arms akimbo. "I wish I knew where Bran was. Even Viconia would be a welcome sight right now."

There was a low murmur from Dynaheir – both of them turned to look in her direction, but her eyes were still closed, expression unchanged. "… that just means there's motivation to get out of here faster," the thief shrugged. "Imagine it. A warm bed… a hot bath… a table, full of hot apple pies. Crusty, warm bread with fresh butter. Roasted sweet potato –"

"S-stop it," Khalid complained, grinning somewhat. The swelling in his face had gone down more, and he was starting to look more like himself. Himself, plus some interested scars and bruises. "I might b-be tempted to eat one of you at this r-rate."

"… eat Eli. He's the one fetishizing Branwen's nasty spell gruel." With a slightly wicked grin, she added, "He probably looks like a big ol' plucked chicken with braids, doesn't he, Khalid?"

The wizard made a disgusted face. "That's appalling."

"So's your negativity," Imoen retorted. "I, for one, can't afford to think about everything that could – and might! – go wrong in trying to get out of here. Those thoughts make me want to just lie down and give up, and none of us are going to escape without everyone cooperating and trying to find productive solutions to… to all this." She gestured around them. "Hungry? Kill a rat. Eat some moss. You even have full and complete permission to eat me, should something happen. Hear that, Khalid?"

Elioth looked horrified by Imoen's tirade but the fighter – who had been more or less quietly sharpening his sword with a flat stone and listening to the duo – put down his makeshift workshop and chuckled. "W-well said, Imoen. And you have p-permission to eat me, too, if need and opportunity arise."

"See? Khalid's got the right idea. We'll all draw straws or something." She went back to scanning the hallway while Eli figured out how to respond to all of that. Finally, he just plopped down next to the mage/thief and leaned his head against the back of the wall.

"I'm sorry."

Imoen put a hand atop his and squeezed his thin, bony fingers. "Me too. This whole thing sucks, you're completely right."

Eli looked down at their hands, then back up at her while he intertwined their fingers. "I can't help but to think of the worst case scenario... it's probably why Xan and I got along so well. Do you think, when this is all over…" He trailed off thoughtfully. "Mm. Tell you what - I'll buy you a drink once we get out of here. You choice of tavern, your choice of drink."

She smiled, even though she wasn't looking at him. "Fancy, fancy. Better save up your gold, then, because I'm going to take advantage of that."

Imoen had pulled off what she was going for – the oft-dour mage was actually smiling at her, despite his tendency for pragmatic and pessimistic thoughts. Another win in her book, one of scores she'd acquired since stepping out with Elioth that fateful morning last year.

Except… he was smiling at her with a peculiar look in his bright, elven eyes – _was that…?_ He caught her staring back, and quickly averted his gaze to look up at the ceiling, then the wall across from them.

Imoen bit her lip as she turned away and continued the watch. The thought that her wise, predictable childhood companion could possibly be harboring anything other than friendly thoughts was confusing at best, and deeply unsettling at worst.

* * *

The next room had, by the sound on the other side of the door, some goblins that needed to be put down. Imoen shrugged at Khalid - that wouldn't be much of an issue, even in their weakened state – and he readied his sword while she listened at the door. Eli (who was patently horrible with any melee weapon but actually a fair shot with a sling) loaded a rock into the piece of leather – as soon as Imoen confirmed that the door was not trapped and swung it open, he managed to knock one of the goblins upside the head before it could react. Shortly thereafter, a second lucky shot finished it off. Khalid easily carved a swath through the remaining handful of them, while Imoen came in last and finished off the stragglers. The battle was less than two minutes, and – as if Tymora wanted to send them a reminder – the creatures had small bags with a few scattered coins, canteens, some ends of stale bread, jerky, and a particularly pungent lump of cheese.

"Told ya we'd be okay," Imoen said, tossing Eli the cheese and some of the crust. They ate while they explored, taking care not to leave a trail of crumbs behind them.

The food revived their spirits – after a while, even Dynaheir seemed to be more alert. The dark-skinned woman lost the glazed look to her eyes and started looking about, though she still didn't offer anything in the way of conversation. Ere long, they came to an open doorway, one that reeked with a sharp chemical smell that burnt their noses and lingered in the back of their throat.

Khalid coughed and wiped water from his eyes. "What is that smell?"

To the party's surprise, it was Dynaheir that answered. Softly, in hoarse tones, she said, "Preserving fluids. This… this is one of his workshops."

"Workshops? For what, I wonder…?" Eli asked, mostly to himself. He was about to take a step in, then thought better and let Imoen go first. The place was crammed full of tanks that all gave off the same harsh chemical smell, but she didn't look inside. Instead, by focusing her efforts to the task at hand, she easily found the crude pressure plate near some storage boxes, and noticed one of the crates itself was glyphed. The security measures were nothing the thief hadn't seen before; she bypassed them easily, and gestured for them all join her. Eli made a beehive for the tanks straightaway, then immediately recoiled at what he saw inside.

"There are bodies in here!"


	3. Dealing

_A/N: This chapter should have been more straightforward than I was making it – instead, it felt like an utter slog. I always thought that the djinn's game was stupid, especially given the scenario, so what took the most time was modifying it to make more sense as more than a passing plot point. _

_Let's be real: Irenicus' dungeon IS a total slog, so I shouldn't be surprised that I'm having such a hard time writing it. I'll be glad when I wrap up all of these scenes and get to the real meat of the story. As I don't plan to chronicle every detail of the way out, that'll be sooner rather than later._

_Thanks again to Blue Inked Frost for the feedback!_

* * *

Dynaheir, Eli, and Imoen joined him at the nearest tank. Tall and made of thick glass, it was hooked up to a complex web of cables and metal boxes, all anchored to the wall – ostensibly, the thief figured as she surveyed it, there was some sort of system that powered it there. Whatever kept it on, though, was failing - the lights inside the tube were sputtering like a dying torch. Floating inside was a wizened, pathetic looking creature that was also hooked up to a complicated web life support.

Khalid reached forward and touched the glass. The creature inside – it looked to be a man, albeit very pickled – didn't respond. "Are they… d-dead, do you think?"

Eli frowned deeply, staring into the tube's depths. "Dynaheir said this was a preservation room… if a body was dead, you'd preserve it to keep it from rotting, but if that's the case then why are they hooked up to so many things?" He touched the glass himself, laying his thin-boned hands against it near where the figure's face fell. The half-elf looked at it for a long moment, then turned to Imoen. "Maybe there's something else in here that'll give us a clue what all this is for."

"How about the other bodies?" she suggested, a trace of 'duh!' in her voice. "There's loads of these tubes. Some of them look a little more powered than the others."

"Well… then let's split up and cover the whole room," he agreed by way of planning, turning to the rest of his ground. "Khalid and Imoen, you take the far corners. I'll take Dynaheir and we'll cover what's up here."

"R-right!"

The Rashemi wizardress cleared her throat slightly. Imoen was startled by the noise – she was starting to get used to the new Dynaheir that never spoke and was more or less utterly checked out, but it seemed the Wychlaran was coming to her senses. "Let me…" she began haltingly, turning her hazel eyes to Eli. With effort, she continued, "Thou… needn't exclude me, Elioth. I am as… capable… as any of you."

There was a moment of awkward silence while he pondered that, then the wizard turned to her, offering her as supportive a smile as he was capable of producing. Imoen personally thought it looked more like a grimace, but then, she wasn't the target or recipient. "I'm glad you're back with us, Dynaheir," he said, offering a hand. The unmasked woman looked down at it for a long moment, with the same glazed look she'd worn before; her own hand twitched slightly as she reached out to accept it, but she jerked it back at the last second, fists clenched.

Blushing furiously at her failure, she nodded. "Thank thee for... for thy convern. I… shall take… take the corner opposite thee."

Eli shot a glance at Imoen, who had watched the whole scene (unlike Khalid, who had gone off and done what he was told). The thief shrugged in return –_ what can you do? –_ then went exploring her corner. There were a LOT of tubes, and most of them were filled with other pickled things of various types, all naked save the tubing and cables that connected them to the system they were hooked into. Most were human; some were elven. A few were completely unidentifiable, as their tanks were off and the ravages of time and decomposition had taken their toll. Imoen dutifully stopped by each one, exploring briefly while checking for any major differences between the occupants and their states of being, but there was nothing of interest.

"B-bubbles!" Khalid exclaimed suddenly, his dark, elfin eyes widened at the tube in front of him. "My tube has bubbles c-coming out of the mouth of whoever's inside." An old human hung limply inside; true to his word, small bubbles indicating breath flowed between his mouth tube and the top of the tank.

"Can we ramp up the power in there?" Eli asked. "Most of the tanks in my corner were broken…"

"Same," agreed Imoen. "I think… maybe there's a problem with the power cells on the sides? The ones that are on look like they're dying, and there's no way to revive them without somehow powering them back up. I doubt he's got a stash of fresh cells laying around, though." She made a face.

"If I had access to my spellbook, I could focus a lightning bolt through the conduits to see if that would help," Eli mused. "Except I don't… so that's not helpful…"

"Well, awesome. We're stuck, again." Imoen blew a few stray strands of pinkish hair out of her eyes.

Khalid looked shifty, inasmuch as a man with that honest a face could muster such an expression. His fingers tapped against the glass of the tube a few times before he finally said, "There's an option w-we've yet to explore, you know. The l-lamp in the c-cave we passed to get here? Maybe what's inside could l-lend a hand via information. Or a s-spell."

"No." The other half-elf shook his head. "We agreed to leave it be, remember? It's just as likely whatever genie's inside would try to trick us, or try and make some bargain, and we simply don't have the time for bargains right now."

"_Djinn,_" Khalid corrected his pronunciation. "We also d-don't have another way out, though. Imoen's l-looked and the other doors are magically locked. Y-you yourself have p-pointed out that we're running out of f-food and water. Desperate times c-call for desperate measures, Elioth."

"… Khalid's right," Imoen agreed after a few moments' thought. "I know we agreed to skip it, but in light of all this, I think we _should_ go back and see whether or not the lamp gives us another way out. You get what, three wishes from a genie?" She frowned – she was pretty sure that was right, but genies weren't exactly something they'd encountered in the past.

"N-not all," Khalid corrected. "Only s-some, and only the greater ones. A-although… that would make the trip out easier if we were lucky."

Eli looked to Dynaheir, who simply nodded her assent with what Khalid and Imoen said. Defeated, the half-elven wizard sighed. "All right... the democracy speaks. We'll backtrack and see whether the lamp's any help in unraveling all… this." With a sweeping motion, he gestured at the room around them. "I have a bad feeling about it, though."

* * *

The lamp was perched at the edge of one of the cave-like room's pools, just like it had been when they passed it last. It was an odd chamber, very different from the rest of the dungeon they'd seen up to that point – the center housed a large mass of red crystals that stretched from floor to ceiling. There were more scattered around the perimeter. They provided a soft, warm glow to the room, illuminating everything within with a cozy, fire-like light. Giving a different sort of glow to the room were the pools. Theirs was a colder gleam, white, like moonlight reflecting off of fog.

Imoen reached the lamp and its corresponding pool first. Dynaheir, despite her increasing lucidity, still moved more slowly than the rest of the party, and both half-elves rightly stuck to her side. The formerly pink-haired girl sat at the edge of the pool and bounced her legs for a bit, then – out of curiosity – she peered inside, through the pale fog. The mists swirled oddly, as if an invisible hand was parting them, like a pair of ethereal curtains. _Touch the water_, the pool compelled her. _Touch and see…_

Imoen did.

The young thief was transported to a parched, dusty plain under a dead-looking sky. She took a step forward to steady herself; underfoot, the ground crumbled, rising up as red dust as her foot broke dry, crackled mud. Around her, stretching to the horizon, were corpses. Big ones, little ones, men and women of all races, ages, and sexes, and all wounded gruesomely and mortally in a variety of manners. Imoen was suddenly glad for her strong stomach.

"_Hello, hidden one."_

It was Sarevok's voice that spoke to her. She turned around slowly, half expecting to see nothing but more corpses, but there he was, true to the form he'd taken when last they met. His heavy armor was dented and covered in blood, his sword broken, but his dark face wore nothing but an expression of smug satisfaction. "W-what did you call me?" Imoen asked, taking another step back.

Sarevok Anchev responded by taking a step forward of his own. _"Welcome to the Great Death, Hidden One, where brothers slay brothers for the ultimate prize. Take Elioth, for instance."_ With his free hand, he pointed. Even though the little thief knew better, she followed his gaze. Sprawled on the ground nearby, the half-elf lay dead. His robes were stained with blood, which pooled underneath him and trickled away, mixing with the rusty clay around him. Sarevok's broken sword was also bloody – somehow, the thief didn't think the two were unrelated.

"You're the dead one, Anchev. I saw you die – I helped Elioth take you down!" Her voice was shaky, but she attempted to rein the fear in enough to keep it hidden for now. "Take me out of here!" she commanded the pool. "I don't want this! I don't want him!"

Sarevok raised his sword. _"In the game that we play, Imoen Who Remains Unseen, you don't get to make those choices."_ He grinned from behind the toothed helmet. _"You want peace? You'll find it in your grave." _

Imoen braced herself, bringing her arms above her head uselessly to help deflect the blow, but instead found herself in Khalid's arms on the dusty stone floor of the crystal cavern. She yelped, pushing him off, and scooted back several feet away from both him and the fountain.

The Calishite fighter frowned at her while he picked himself up and dusted off. "What was t-that?"

"I don't know." The mage/thief shuddered. "I looked – I looked into the pool and… Sarevok was there. I think… I think it was some sort of illusion."

Elioth was nearby, still walking with Dynaheir over to them. The sight of her friend alive and well calmed her nerves somewhat – she let out a short, self-deprecating laugh at the entire situation. "Of course. It had to have been an enchantment of some sort, Eli's still around… there's no way any of that could have happened." Then, to Khalid, "Don't scold. I know that was stupid of me, looking in there. This whole place is full of tricks."

Khalid's frown deepened; he went over at the pool, and even went so far as to run his hands through the mist, but did not look inside or touch the water. "Imoen. T-tell me about what you saw in there. If there's a c-chance that Eli could g-get hurt…"

"I doubt that'll happen, not unless he listens to the pool too." She swallowed; suddenly her throat felt very dry, but the water they'd gotten off of the goblins had to last. "Later, Khalid. I'll tell you about it when we rest."

The fighter nodded and dropped the subject, but didn't look any more convinced about her explanation or relieved about the situation. Instead, he picked up the lamp, glanced at it, then passed it over to Eli. The mage let go of Dynaheir to accept it, turned the brass object around in his hands a few times, sighed, and rubbed it.

In the stories Imoen remembered, djinn – genies, as she and Eli had always called them because neither could wrap their mouths around the Alzhedo word well enough to get the pronunciation right – were humongous creatures, frightening, clad in rich fabrics, with shimmering skin and the ability to grant three wishes. While this genie did impressively take its form from a gush of smoke emanating from the bottle, and while he was certainly larger than any of them, his olive skin and plain silk vest were kind of a letdown in light of all the tales they'd read.

"Elioth!" he exclaimed happily, fine features molding themselves into a smile. Imoen's eyebrows creased slightly – he didn't even _sound_ all that powerful. Lame. "Welcome! Welcome all of you! I am Aataqah. You're here rather later than I'd hoped."

Eli gave the creature a skeptical, sidelong glance. "Is that so?"

The djinn shrugged. "Time runs differently in the lamp, I suppose. Regardless, you've all my welcome to this little corner I've set up. I do try to keep it more appealing than the steel cages and preservation tanks."

The party looked around at one another, not entirely sure what to make of the overly friendly newcomer. "How do… you know my name…?" Eli began hesitantly. "We've never met before. I never saw you in any of… what went on here."

Aataqah smiled. "Your name's well known to those who know what to watch, young elfling. Indeed, your life's thread is quite bright, though in your path in particular lies many a dark, frayed end." Eli opened his mouth to ask more, but the genie held up a finger, imploring him to wait. "It's not my place to ease your mind about the specifics of that path, nor am I able to answer such questions as those that surely plague you. My apologies."

Imoen had had enough of Aataqah already. "Then of what use can you be to us?" she asked, cutting off whatever Eli was going to say next.

The genie's grin got wider, and a gleam appeared in its black eyes. "Such assistance as you all will get from me depends on yourselves. Winthrop's ward… hmm. Are you prepared to answer a question?"

She looked to Eli, who shrugged at her. "Sure, if it leads to you starting to make any sense."

"Then here it is, purely hypothetical of course." He brought his clawed, bejeweled hands up to help illustrate his point. "You and a friend are captured by a mage, locked in separate cells, unable to communicate." Imoen snorted – of course he'd ask about something that had already happened. "The mage responsible appears to you and speaks, explaining a most sadistic game: in each cell, there is a button. If you press your button but your friend does not, then you will die, but he will go free."

One of Imoen's red eyebrows was raised high at his little game. "And if I don't?"

"Excellent," Aataqah praised her, clapping his hands together. "The spirit of inquiry is strong with you, I see. If your friend presses the button but you do not, then they will die and you will go free!"

"But… what if neither of us presses a button?"

"Then…" Dynaheir cut in, uncertainly at first, but gaining strength as she spoke. "Then both will die via refusal to… to play the game. A variation on _'The Prisoner's Dilemma'_. 'Tis a… a logic problem. Of sorts."

"And I'm guessing that if we both press the button, we'll both die? I mean… it seems that pressing the button ensures that the _presser _will die, right?" the half-elf half-explained and half-asked. Both Dynaheir and the djinn nodded their assent, which made him sigh and the thief frown.

Imoen cocked her head to the side, and her fading pink hair touched her shoulder. "How long does 'the mage' give us to make this kind of terribly important decision?"

"One turn of the hourglass." Aataqah steepled his long, tan fingers and floated over to Imoen, looking down on her from the end of his pointed nose. "Tell me, Imoen, would you press the button to save your friend? What about you, Elioth?"

Eli looked over at his companions – Khalid looked sympathetic, Dynaheir thoughtful, and Imoen blank as she mulled over her own choice. "I… don't need an hour to decide," the half-elf began, his gaze lingering on Imoen for a moment before turning to the dijnn. "I would –"

None of them heard his response, even though his lips moved. Imoen started at the sudden silence; Khalid was reaching for his weapon, but Aataqah had raised his hands up in the air in the universal sign for peace. "Privacy, good adventurers," he said smoothly. "I wouldn't want the elfling's response to influence what his young companion has to say; peer pressure and all, and the point of the game is that the prisoners are separate. Need you more time, Imoen?"

The girl shook her head, and suddenly, the noises of the cave around them vanished – she was awash in her own sphere of silence, just her and the genie. She narrowed her blue eyes at him. "My decision is that your game, and this question, are stupid. You're determining what by this - my morality? Based on whether I'm willing to _kill_ for some hypothetical mind game?" Imoen laughed harshly. "You don't know anything about me, about Eli, or any of us."

Aataqah drew himself up to his full ten feet and crossed his arms. "So you are willing to let your friend die by your refusal to play?"

"No!"

"Then what?"

"I'd pick the lock, rescue my friend, kill the mage if I had to, and get the hell out of there. Damn his buttons." Imoen grinned rather sardonically up at him. "But that's not what you want to hear, is it? Your game relies on my base instincts – kill or be killed. I die if I don't play, I die if I do, and I have to take the chance that my partner decides to do the noble thing and off himself in order to walk out." She licked her lips, still feeling quite parched. "The only thing to do in a situation like this is to press the stupid button and cross my fingers that my friend doesn't. Unless my friend isn't really my friend, in which case it doesn't matter what I do, but since it's obvious you're referring to Eli, I'd press it." She raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Not to nitpick, but… in _The Prisoner's Dilemma_, don't both players get something for cooperating better than death?"

The djinn regarded her with an odd expression on his face. "You and Eli are cut from the same cloth, and yet the differences are astounding…"

"Tell me about it." The little thief shrugged. "His father was a great mage and a Harper – he got magic and an overweening sense of nobility. Mine was an innkeeper; glean from that what you will."

The background noise came back in a rush. She'd either passed or failed his test – not that she cared either way – and the genie was mulling over the two responses he'd received. Eli had, no doubt, sacrificed his life, in a typical show of Eli's self-sacrificing and somewhat pessimistic nature. No doubt he'd explained that his friend almost certainly had the capability of getting out better than he did. Well, that wasn't her deal – the question was flawed, and she hated mind games. Imoen hoped she'd thrown a wrench into whatever the stupid elemental was plotting.

"Truly," Aataqah began, "You two are the most unique specimens the madman has ever brought into this lair."

Eli looked skeptical. "That's… a compliment, I think?"

"Indeed." He smiled, white teeth gleaming in the dimness of the cave. "No actions can be performed without consequence, the two of you. Normally I'd summon your trial, the 'reaction', if you will, to whatever path you chose, but I must admit that the pink-haired girl's response has… intrigued me."

"Glad to be of service," she said faux-chipperly, proud of herself for ruining his game.

Eli looked alarmed. "What did you –" he began, but the look she game firmly told him '_no, I'd rather not say'._ Instead, he cleared his throat, switching topics. "So… can you tell us how to get out of here?"

Aataqah nodded serenely. "I can even do better than that," he said. "If you agree to do something for me."

"No more mind games," the mage said quickly, his tone turning serious. "We've had enough of those, from both you and the man who captured us."

The djinn's laugh was loud and unsettling. "Little elfling, I have no love of Jon Irenicus myself, nor am I bound to whatever plots and intrigues he has in his deranged head. I ask for myself, not him."

"Jon Irenicus?" Eli looked around at the party, gauging their reactions to the name. "Is that who captured us?"

Khalid saw that his charge had gotten off-track, so he picked up the younger man's slack, addressing the djinn directly for the first time. "T-then what… what ARE you suggesting? We have nothing to g-give in return for any favors y-you might ask." His tone towards the elemental was polite - deferential almost – and it was the first time Imoen saw a hint of the half-elf's heritage outside of the off-handed comment about pronunciation.

"Don't you?" There was a gleam in his sharp black eyes. "I propose a trade. I have a friend nearby who seems to have gotten misplaced… help me help him and transport us out of here, and I will help see to it that you all leave in one piece. My friend and I can make our way back to Calimshan once we leave."

"T-that's it?"

"… it seems like an innocuous enough deal," Imoen admitted, though she hated to do so after Aataqah's little attempt at armchair psychology. "Eli? Your thoughts?"

The half elf was staring past the genie with searching blue eyes, brass lamp still clutched in his hand while his thoughts wandered. It took him a few moments to come back to the rest of them. "…he had ample opportunity to attack us and didn't… so I'm game. For now," he started, "so long as _he_ plays under our rules. For starters, he tells us what our next move should be."

The djinn considered this, then nodded sagely. "All right, then. Seek out Rielev, one of Irenicus' forgotten servants. He's been waiting for one such as you for a long time. Offer him the release he craves, and the focus of your journey will shortly thereafter become apparent."

Imoen made a face at his 'advice'. "What does that even mean? And where can we find him?" she asked, but the genie was beginning to lose form and retreat back into his bottle.

_Rielev_, he repeated before dissipating away.


	4. Adjuticating

A/N: Apologies for the long, long wait. My headspace hasn't been the greatest lately – between starting class again and getting back ON anti-anxieties, I've been focusing on real life. For example: a knitting project for a friend that I desperately wanted to finish, or making sure I cook more than once a blue moon and get my grading done. Added to this, I've been rather self-conscious of my writing style lately so this kept getting pushed aside, and the slow crawl that is Irenicus' dungeon makes it easy to quickly lose steam. Here is the (hopefully!) long-awaited continuation, though! Unlike past attempts at fanfics, I want to finish what I've started. Thanks, as always, to Blue-Inked Frost for the kind and consistent feedback, and to those of you who have liked and followed the story as it's unfolded!

* * *

'Rielev' – the mysterious entity the foursome had been told to see out – was nowhere to be seen. They'd searched every nook and cranny, up and down corridors, and even spent some time trying to break through the door in the room that contained their cages to no avail. It was after a close call that they decided to take a break in their search – Khalid had picked up on voices in the distance and, fearing recapture, they'd made it into Aataqah's chamber and hid among the pegmatites and humongous crystal formations until the threat had passed.

Curiously, what went by wasn't a mephit or a small band of goblins or kobolds. Instead, they saw a pair of hooded humanoids clad in black raiment enter the cavern chamber from the end near the holding tanks. The duo was cautious as they went by – the one in front signaled to its friend with their hands instead of speaking out loud, waited for the response, then progressed forward. Imoen watched their exchanges with interest – 2 fingers and a knuckle up, with palm facing back; a thumbs up in return. _Exit southeast; noted. _The first thief's hands came together, thumb and forefinger touching, then moved apart while the fingers splayed out; the second ran its thumb across its hood, brought their hands down in a wavy motion, and then placed one hand under the other. _There's light ahead; noted, stick to the shadows and hide._ She racked her brain, trying to figure out why the gestures were so familiar -

_Oh!_ Right. Thieves' cant.

Imoen looked across the way to where Eli and Khalid were hiding – the giant red crystals obscured her view of the half-elves, which was good. If she couldn't see them, neither could the black-clad newcomers on patrol. She let them pass and then gave the duo several extra minutes lead before coming out; Dynaheir followed her lead, and the women then retrieved the two men. They briefly regrouped in the center of the cave, listening for any more voices in the stillness of the cave before hastened onward, to the last room they hadn't encountered.

Their new break room was a small chamber across from the preservation room, with a dead radiant mephit adorning entrance, stuck to the wooden door with cheap throwing daggers. They'd seen the door before but hadn't gone in, fearing it would be trapped, or magically locked. It WAS locked, as it turned out, but there was nothing magical about this one - just a relatively simple mechanism that Eli probably could have picked. They opened it with little difficulty and latched the door behind them, then look a look at their new surroundings.

This one was spare, save for an old work table and a pile of pallets and wooden scraps stacked against the west wall. There, they had the last sips from their canteens and the remainder of the stolen meal, and sat in uncomfortable silence in the dark. No one wanted to mention the corner they'd found themselves in, yet it was forefront in the minds of all four captives.

"So… what was with the sneaky duo?" Eli ventured, breaking up the awkward moment and keeping anyone from voicing their sure doom. "This is the first we've seen of them alive."

"T-they certainly looked l-like they knew the layout of the place," Khalid agreed.

Imoen had been staring off into the darkness in her own headspace, and was only half-listening to the two men. "They didn't, actually," she said, coming out of her thoughts to address Khalid. "It looked like they were mapping a path out."

"How c-could you tell?" Both half elves turned their attention to the formerly pink-haired thief, who cracked a grin. How had the others not noticed, especially the two with elven blood and their low-light vision?

"Um, well," she began, "For one, they were using thieves' cant. The signed portion of it, anyway… the fella in front was making gestures to the one in back every so often, telling him where the exits and light sources were."

Khalid looked genuinely impressed by the thief's display of knowledge. "I d-didn't know you knew hand signing."

Imoen blushed in the dim light. "I don't know it well. I just picked up on some of it back in Baldur's Gate… I took a few side… um, excursions…. before we left to go south. You probably shouldn't ask about anything more specific." Khalid nodded, not sure he _did_ want to know after all. "Anyway," she continued, "It's a handy way to communicate quietly, since the language is supposed to be the same from Luskan down to Calimport."

"Huh." Eli stroked his hairless chin. "So then the hooded people are thieves?"

"Probably safe to assume so. At the very least, they're associated with them."

"Huh," he repeated. "Then they had to have found a way to bypass the wards and magical locks on those doors. I wonder if we can catch up to them or maybe follow them out… since there's no sign of this "Rielev" anywhere."

"But what would Aataqah get out of tricking us?" Imoen asked, turning to him. "He himself said he doesn't have much love for our, um, host. Why tell us to find someone who doesn't exist?"

"Trickery." As she had done before, Dynaheir came out of her silence with single, straight-to-the-point words. "The elemental ilk… they are fickle, far from trustworthy in my experience."

"Not djinn," Khalid said quickly, shaking his head. "No, I r-remember them from C-Calimshan, t-they're a good sort."

Dynaheir's voice quavered somewhat in her rebuttal. "We have been dealt naught but lies and trickery since arriving; why should a convenient djinn in a bottle prove to be any different?"

That silenced everyone. Khalid attempted to put an arm around the Wychlaran but she shied away from his touch, wrapping her arms around herself tightly to ward off the chill of the dungeon.

"I wish I had matches or something," Imoen muttered to herself, looking around the dim room. "All right, so… we've gone into every open room between the cages and here, right? The genie told us to find Rielev, so unless he's been hiding somewhere we've missed – unlikely between the half-elves and my awesomeness – he's in here. Or he's not 'here' at all."

"Then I guess we have to assume Rielev doesn't exist…" Eli sighed.

"Wait." Khalid frowned at the pile, his eyebrows creasing in the middle as he studied the area intently. "W-we should search that corner."

"It's a bunch of rubble," Imoen complained, holding back her full thoughts on the matter. Luckily, Khalid had always been a patient man, and he looked at Imoen and Eli as if they were silly children.

"F-first rule of adventuring," he began, bracing to stand and investgate. "Remember? The f-first rule was t-to *always* search your rooms b-before you open anything or leave. Y-you both had to learn the hard w-way…"

Their first real encounter they'd ever had as a group rushed back into Imoen's head – it was raining hard the night after they'd left the Friendly Arm Inn. There were four of them – Khalid, Jaheira, Elioth, and Imoen. They'd made good time but the road was wet and slippery; lightning and thunder raged overhead, making everyone nervous to be out and about. Just south of the road was a small ridge, and Jaheira suggested they seek out shelter for the night. They found it in a small cave on the south side of a ridge. It wasn't exactly dry, but was better than being outside – relieved, the group bedded down for the night, and divided the night into watches.

In their haste to make camp and weather out the storm, they'd neglected to fully search the cave. What looked like a solid back was, in fact, not; a swarm of gibberlings had found them that night, en route to their subterranean home - which was conveniently accessed via their temporary lodgings. They were real gibberlings too, not the peaky, diseased specimens that roamed close to Candlekeep. That encounter had given Eli the first real wound he'd ever sustained; it was also the first time Imoen had truly wondered whether they'd survive the journey.

She shuddered, then looked to Eli; from the young half-elf's expression, it was clear he was revisiting the same memory. They joined Khalid at the pile, and the two youngest members of their group began clearing away the wooden debris that had been stacked high. Dynaheir joined them shortly thereafter, gliding over quietly and forming a neat pile with the discarded wood.

It took several minutes, but ultimately, Eli held up the last pallet to show an overlooked tube underneath, still flickering with power. The foursome stared at the crumpled, wrinkled figure inside for a few seconds before Khalid quietly interrupted: "B-bubbles. Robust bubbles! H-he's alive!"

Imoen was frowning at the sight of the creature, placidly floating in his forgotten tube. "I don't understand. Why… why would you go through the trouble of preserving someone, and then just bury them behind all that trash?"

"Mayhap he was forgotten." Dynaheir gently touched the glass of the tube, her face inscrutable – none of the other three knew quite what to say to her expression. It was halfway between grief, understanding, and stone-cold nothingness. "Mayhap he was buried on purpose, and **supposed** to have been forgotten."

"… something worse than death," Imoen said, understanding the gist of what the Rashemi woman was trying to say. "Being kept at the brink and put somewhere so that no one could help you, and no one would find you, just… floating. Eternally." The thought brought a shudder to her; Eli laid a calming hand on her shoulder.

"Is this Rielev, do you think?"

Imoen looked at his smooth hand for a second before answering Eli's question. "I dunno. His tank's on, ask him."

"A- all right." The wizard looked unsure about the entire matter, but approached the tank and lightly rapped against the glass. Dynaheir, Khalid, and Imoen stepped back to give him some room.

The creature's eyes flew open and Eli yelped in surprise, jumping back a step – he stumbled on a few stray pieces of pallet that had been left behind. Bloodshot and pale, Rielev's eyes looked like specks of pupil in a sea of rheumy white and blood vessels. They fixed upon the young half-elf.

"_Aaaa…._" He croaked a few times. His voice was high and hoarse with disuse. He made some more incoherent noises, then finally asked quietly, "Who… be thee…? Servants of my master…?"

"I'm servant to no one, but… good gods, man," Eli said, coming closer to him once more to better be able to speak to him. He seemed to have gotten over his initial fright of the man now that he was alert and speaking. "What happened to you?"

Rielev stared out into the space that Eli was occupying, but didn't seem to be looking *at* him. "Truly… I remember not much anymore," he croaked, turning his eyes onto the others behind the glass. "W- where is master? He is… not among you."

"Who are you?" Elioth pressed, sensing the urgency behind the man in the tank's voice.

"Ah… it is difficult to... to remember. To speak as well. I was Rielev... 'was' because… I am now dead, I think. Or dying."

Rielev said it as if it was an unarguable fact, with no trace of sadness or anger behind the words. The half-elf turned back to consult the rest of his party. Dynaheir looked torn, her dark eyes averted away from the sight of the man. Khalid wasn't looking at Rielev directly; he was obviously uncomfortable. Imoen's face, however, was impassive – she shrugged at Eli, in a sort of 'you're on your own' gesture to her friend.

"I'm… not sure I'm entirely following what you're saying, Rielev," he pressed. "Are you living or dead?"

"Neither, neither," the other man said, attempting to explain. "I am... between the two. My master has left and forgotten me... he has not killed me."

"Wh –uh. Is it death that you want?" Eli asked slowly, cocking his head to the side while he thought and spoke at the same time. "Do you… um, wish us to release you from this state?"

Rielev's clouded eyes widened – he looked like he could have jumped out of the glass at them had he been able. "Release, yes...! I-I no longer wish to be here!" His excitement caused the fragile, soft voice to break somewhat. He coughed feebly for several seconds, continuing in a softer tone with, "Let me… let me slip into the oblivion that… I have been denied!"

"All right, okay. Just –"

"Y-you're going to let him die?" Khalid asked, looking at Eli with an odd expression on his face. "This is a ch-chance to s-save a life, Elioth…"

"Rielev hasn't been alive in a long time," Imoen rebutted sharply. "Look at him, Khalid, he wouldn't survive out of the tank. Unhooking him *would* be saving him…"

While the two of them hashed it out, Eli looked back to Rielev, a tired expression in his pale eyes. "How can we help?"

"This unit… chamber… is powered by cells, crystals. Take them and I can die at last."

He brushed some of the wires behind him and moved closer to the edge of the tank, splaying his hands against the inside of the glass and setting his intense gaze in the general direction of Eli. "I know you are a prisoner. You ask too much to be one of Master's… alas, it seems some things do not change."

"What does—" Imoen began, halting her argument with Khalid temporarily, but Rielev started up again. She instantly closed her mouth, the words getting filed for later. "You… all of you… must escape this place… escape his experiments. There are others… others like me but more fresh... They may know how to exit this complex."

"You mean the room across the hall," Eli realized aloud, which caused Rielev to nod emphatically.

"Yes! Will you take these cells… revive the others…? To learn what you can to find your freedom?"

Khalid and Imoen had stopped their bickering over what was moral and right and what wasn't; both they and Dynaheir watched the half-elf to see what he would do.

Elioth was a good person at heart. That he would choose to end Rielev's suffering was never in question even though he didn't like taking lives. The ethical struggle over what to do with the frail man in the tube was easy to overcome in his head; Rielev had absolutely gotten a lion's share of pain in his artificially long life. "I'll take the cells. We'll try to revive the other servants and… um, see what we can do." He knocked softly on the glass, ultimately resting his palm near the pickled man's own hand. "Have peace at last, Rielev."

"Thank ye... go and leave me to oblivion." He matched his palm to Eli's.

Dynaheir was closest to the back of the cell – she nodded at Eli, understanding what they'd been asked to do. Grasping the power cell, she gave it a hard yank. It came free in her hands and she looked down at it for a second before bringing her gaze up to Rielev's face. "Find thy peace at last," she repeated, watching the chamber start to darken.

"At last!" he whispered.

The foursome watched him fade out, a beatific smile on his wizened face.


End file.
